The Trial
by Shigal
Summary: Five years have passed since the defeat of Voldemort, but the trials over Death Eaters are still going. Hermione Granger is now an aspiring attorney in a transnational law firm. She never participates in those trials, as she is still healing from the losses of the Wizarding War. But when Dumbledore asks her to take the case of this mysterious man, she cannot refuse...
1. Chapter 1 The Old Man's Request

The old stones of grey castle walls seemed to literary shake from the high vocal tones Professor McGonagall's voice was rising to in the midst of the heated argument.

"Albus! It is not that I do not support you in this… But you are overstepping all possible borders! I am wholeheartedly against this _avanture_!"

"I know," the old man on the portrait nodded, and patches of reflected sunlight played at the corners of his half-moon spectacles. "And I am not surprised."

"Albus, I am begging you…"

Hermione listened silently to yet another argument between the old Headmaster and the new one. The Portrait of Albus Dumbledore was much more talkative, then the man himself was; and right now he was obviously up to something major. Hermione was quite certain that if Professor McGonagall does not like it, it is definitely not good.

She has never seen the Head of Gryffindor so furious, but she has also never seen these two argue. Yet, there was something disturbing about this whole situation. Hermione's inner gut was telling her to get out of this place, and yet she decided against it.

Hermione looked at the grand long case clock behind Headmistresses desk. She knew for sure she was late for the witness deposition in her office. She has been working as an attorney for five years already, and yet she had never been late. Until today, when Hogwarts owl summoned her for an immediate meeting, and old adventurous mood stroke her to apparate back to the welcoming grounds of the castle she still called home.

After graduating from Hogwarts Hermione went to Auror Academy with Harry and Ron, but majored in Jurisprudence and Magical Britain's law rather than joining the boys at the Defense against the Dark Arts department. Back in Hogwarts and during the war she kept thinking she should go into medicine, but the tragic story of Severus Snape's life and death came smashing on her head, and she renounced a career in anything even slightly connected to brewing. The dark and secretive Potion's Master was somewhat a role model to her for his strengths and his loyalties, but ever since the Battle of Hogwarts he became yet another painful war memory that Hermione would rather forget.

Upon graduation Hermione received a very generous job offer from London headquarters of a prestigious transnational law firm that uniquely served both muggles and wizards. Soon she felt that she had found her niche, and has been happy with it ever since. But there still was one undeniable truth – Hermione yearned for something to enlighten the routine her life has lately become, and Hogwarts has always been a perfect place for unexpected twists.

"Albus, this idea of yours is just way too obvious. You cannot burst in on people's lives like that, you know!"

"I can't think of a better way to help, Minerva. There is not really much of a choice…"

While Professor McGonagall continued arguing though was already losing her positions, Hermione silently entertained herself to looking at the portraits on the walls. The _History of Hogwarts_, her favorite book, described all of them quite well, but she never had the opportunity to look at them herself. Some were sleeping, snoring in different overtones; others were tiredly listening to the quarrel.

Professor Snape's portrait was looking directly at Hermione with his dark, heavy sight. His posture was stiff, and it seemed like he was hiding something in the folds of his black swirling robes. Hermione caught his dreary sight, and creeps ran down her spine.

She raised her eyebrow, imitating his favorite gesture, and yet the man on the portrait did not bother to react. They kept staring at each other and at the moment when Hermione was ready to overt her eyes she suddenly noticed him nod. It was barely visible, and yet she could have sworn she saw him nod to her.

She puzzled over it for a few seconds, until her mind was distracted by Professor McGonagall's fierce exit. While the Headmistress did not slam old wooden door, she made sure the angry clicks of her heels were heard by anyone within the range of three corridors. Professor Dumbledore looked as if her disapproval did not disappoint him at all, yet he was deep in his own thoughts, curling his long white beard around point finger. It seemed that he had forgotten about the young esquire sitting right in front of him.

"Professor..?"

"Oh, miss Granger," his sight suddenly became focused again. "What was I saying? Oh yes! I have something to ask of you. Quite an important mission I would say, and I am counting on your full support."

"I am listening, Professor," said Hermione trying to sound calm. She was excited and worried in the same time.

"Do you know how many Death Eaters are still in Azkaban? Those who are still awaiting their trial?"

"Not many," she shrugged her shoulders, "no more than ten."

"Would you mind stating the names?" he looked at her over his glasses, and his sight was concerned and serious. "Miss Granger, do you know them?"

Oh yes, she knew them. Each and every one of them: their names and faces. She also knew their crimes and their victims. She did not fear anymore, nor did she allow hate to overwhelm her. Hermione just banished them from her life.

She skipped the news articles about numerous prosecutions, and switched radio off every time conversations on it turned to the topic of Death Eaters. Her heart was still healing from the battle losses that they all suffered almost five years ago.

"Professor, what are you trying to say?"

"I am asking for your help, Counsel." Dumbledore's voice dragged her out of the miserable thoughts.

Hermione puzzled over his words. Why would he use such a court-like reference? Suddenly she felt very uncomfortable in the red velvet armchair under the amiable yet cunning glances of the old Headmaster of Hogwarts. Wherever this conversation was going – she already did not like it.

"There is a man in Azkaban who is soon to face his trial, a Death Eater for that matter. I am cordially asking you to take on his defense."

"Professor Dumbledore! I cannot…"

"Please, miss Granger. It is very important."

"I don't do criminal, Professor." Hermione spoke sincerely: she was a personal injury lawyer, not a criminal defense attorney. There were litigators who specialized in this matter: _Death Eater Defenders _or "DED" as the Bar Association called them.

She was not one of them. Her parents never recovered from her own desperate spell, and her heart was still hurting from all the losses from the Battle of Hogwarts – these were feelings she simply couldn't put behind.

"I know that is not the full reason, Miss Granger." His eyes were still sparkling, but they suddenly became dark and full of concern. "He is weak and exhausted. Tortured. Would you really deny such man proper defense? He deserves it. We both know what awaits him at Wizengamot, but I cannot step in the halls of the Grand Court anymore. It is you who can."

Hermione sighted. She was sure the old professor was pulling strings. He knew that one word can make her do something like this, and he spoke it without saying out loud. Hermione could not let an innocent man rot in Azkaban. It has always been like this, _she_ has always been like this.

"Who is this man?"

"I cannot tell you, Miss Granger. And by now he might very well not remember."

_Oh, for Merlin's sake! _She thought to herself. _It gets better and better!_

"Amnesia? Obliviate?"

"Add Cruciatus to the list." Professor Dumbledore was looking straight in her eyes, as if trying to persuade of his point. But it was unnecessary: at the name of the Forbidden Curse and the idea of an innocent man memories started pouring into Hermione's head.

"But how can I..?"

"Trust me," old man spoke in a deep low voice. "If there is someone who can save his soul, it is you and no one else. As I have said, he deserves the most zealous defense. He deserves you, Miss Granger."

Hermione pondered over his words. Trust? Professor Dumbledore was known for his grand plans and complicated insinuations, and judging upon Professor McGonagall's behavior he did not give up his ways. She didn't want to be a part of a greater scheme, yet, the thought of an innocent man in the dirty cell of the wizard prison was already tearing her heart apart. Hermione nervously clasped her hands, pressing them firmly against one another.

Ever since the Dark Lord fell it was still as if she was dealing with him every day. Wizengamot demanded something of her quite often – testimonies, affidavits, oaths… She felt sorry for those wizards who were obliged by the ethics of the legal profession to deal with the Death Eaters. Many were to lie and play schemes and games, and sometimes they even were quite successful in their ways.

She kept thinking about what Dumbledore was asking of her. On one hand she would have to overstep her fears and principles. On the other Hermione was not a coward to herself. Yet, taking on such a trial, she thought, may be the only way to confront her pains and let go of them…for good.

Hermione looked up at Professor Snape's portrait, as if seeking an affirmation from him. Suddenly she saw him nod – now it was clearer, more distinct. The man was trying to tell her something. Was he agreeing with Dumbledore?

"I cannot do this, Professor Dumbledore," she finally said in a low voice. "At the very least I need to know more before I make this decision."

"Of course, my dear. Ask any questions."

"Why is he being put to trial? If he is sick the court should order a compulsory medical treatment…"

The portrait of the old Headmaster sighted loudly.

"He has a Mark, young lady. Does the Court often let go of someone who's marked?"

"Then how do you know he is innocent?"

She could swear that Professor Dumbledore almost chuckled to her question.

"Oh, but I did not say he is innocent. I only said he deserves…"

Hermione pressed her lips together. It was almost too late to back out, and Professor Dumbledore already had her very interested in the case. But defending a murderer?! Of course, who else would he ask of it, when it is her who Wizengamot is likely to trust over anyone? Dumbledore called him a lost soul of a tortured man. Could she back out on such a defendant?

"May I suggest, Miss Granger?" Headmaster spoke softly. "Go talk to him yourself, and then make your decision. I believe such meeting might persuade you to see things… more clearly."

Hermione silently nodded. Dumbledore knew her well, as he so easily talked her into meeting a person she _a priori _has some very mixed feelings about. Still she now simply had to go to Azkaban to see this mysterious anonym. So much for enlightening her routine! Yet looking at the case herself before deciding to take it or decline it – that has always been her strategy…

"He is contained in the cell number 5493. I do count on you, Counsel."

ХХХ

"Hermione, I don't like this." Ron looked up at her from the newspaper.

"You've mentioned it ten times in the last half an hour. I heard you well the first time." She was still shaken from her meeting with Dumbledore this morning, and the man's comments were now only irritating her.

"Well, forgive me for being repetitive!" Ron suddenly exploded in words. "Are you up for a bloody adventure again? Should we call Harry?! Or Neville, he still holds that bloody sword dear; I bet it's hanging over his fireplace…"

"Ron, stop it! Really." She conjured two cups of chamomile tea and gave one to him with a peaceful smile.

"Thanks, bun," he sighted. "You won't listen anyway, will you?"

"I am interested and I am curious." Hermione shrug her shoulders. "There must be a reason for which Professor Dumbledore cares for this man. As there must be one for Professor Sn… Sprout to support him."

"Who? Sprout? Is she involved in this too?"

"No. I met her on the way out." Hermione didn't know why she lied about Snape's portrait. It just slipped. Nevertheless she did not want to tell Ron about her exchange of nods with the deceased Potions Master.

"Since when do you listen to her?"

"I don't, and I am tired of discussing this." She tried to sound stiff.

They were silent for a while.

"We have a wedding soon, Hermione. We are going to be married."

"Oh really?" she smiled.

"Really." Ron's voice was dead serious. "And instead of panicking over dresses and plate ornaments as a normal bride you behave like don't even care!"

Hermione sighted. Ron's mood was strange today. But she had nothing to tell him as she did not know what to say. They were dating for several years already; living together in a flat she was renting downtown London close to her office. Everything seemed just fine. Somewhat like in the books she liked to read when she wanted to take her mind of work: they met in school, they fell in love…

_This is where the problem lies_, Hermione often thought to herself. Feelings, emotions, love – all that was long gone as if never existed. Ron has become more of a brother to her, and the whole idea of matrimony seemed foolish to her at times. Hermione kept thinking about it. Was she right? Was this marriage a good idea? Or was she just getting cold feet?

"You don't even wear the engagement ring".

Hermione looked down on her hands. Merlin! He was right, and she didn't remember to wear that tasteless diamond today, same as on many other days.

"Ron, stop this provocation. You know well I don't like wearing jewelry at home". Hermione tried to get away with it, but she knew Ron was going to hold this ring situation against her up until the wedding day. He is and always has been all about a grudge…

"Of course, bun," he said suddenly in an estranged voice; demonstratively hiding behind a newspaper. "You don't wear your engagement ring, you don't care for guest lists and music bands for our own wedding ceremony… And now you're telling me you are going to spend last weeks before the wedding in Azkaban with some greasy crud! Nice."

_Here we go again_, Hermione though, _and I am not going to even respond to that. I hate it when you call me "bun"!_

She suddenly felt like everything in her life was going wrong, or at least not the way she wanted it. What she wanted was to run away, jump out of what now was her life into something new and exciting. Hermione was tired of it all: Ron with his fluffy feelings and harsh pretentions, married girlfriends that would never shut up about their perfect husbands, even this couch with beige chintz upholstery… oh she was just fed to the teeth with it!

Hermione knew what she was missing – her freedom, the feeling of flight, the lightness of being. She felt as if she is locked up in a golden cage, and her soul was beating on the bars, yet her ratio itself did not allow it free. Hermione longed for love: all-consuming, inconvenient, passionate, and indescriptive love. She wanted someone, who would go all in for her; and Ron was only ready to move halfway…

Sometimes in the silence of their bedroom, after he went to sleep, she would lay for hours thinking about this relationship. In her mind Hermione would make "pros and cons" tables and always end up with a draw. After losing her parents to the war she was not ready to give up on a single person who loved her for certain. Neither was she ready to give up the Weasley family, and the welcoming warmth of the Burrow.

Hermione felt sad from the fact that she had no one to talk to about this. Harry is Ron's friend, Ginny is his sister – and these two were the only people she trusted, the only she held close. It was devastating to have no one who could listen to her and not judge for second thoughts.

But in the end of the day all this did not matter. All Hermione wanted was to feel in love again. She sincerely hoped that the old man's request will at least take her thoughts off all this emotional mess. Overall, maybe it really is the pre-wedding stress?


	2. Chapter 2 A Visit to the Azkaban

"Request for entrance granted," something whispered dangerously close to her ear. "Follow me."

Hermione entered the large wooden doors, and suddenly felt weak. It was very dark inside, and the smells of rot intermixed with no less strong smells of some kind of potions and old dust. A dementor was floating several feet away, waiting for her. As they walked down the hallways, she was shivering at every other dementor that crossed their way. Though the war was over, and they swore to loyalty and service with the Ministry again, she held no trust for these dark creatures.

The dementor who was escorting her waived what was supposedly his hand, inviting her into a darker, scarier corridor. Hermione felt his glaze on herself, as if he was really looking at her with his non-existent eyes. Oh, how much she hated Dumbledore's idea right now! She braced herself, following the dementor into the hole of a corridor, firmly holding her wand.

They have been walking for almost ten minutes in this complicated labyrinth of dark and damp hallways. The walls seemed as if they were soaked in madness and despair, but she felt no pity. Not for the Death Eaters, never.

_Not all of them were bad_, Hermione thought to herself. _But Severus Snape is rather the exception then the rule_.

For a moment she thought about Snape. His body was never found, but he was nevertheless announced dead shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. He was commonly believed to either bleed to death somewhere in the Forbidden Forest or murdered but the remaining Death Eaters.

Though Harry did manage to clear his name, and Snape received an Order of Merlin posthumously, the Ministry couldn't care less for him. At the cemetery that was established on Hogwarts grounds to honor those who fell protecting the castle in the last battle, Snape's grave was the only one missing.

Severus Snape meant a huge deal for Harry. Young Auror desperately looked for his remains all over the country, but never found even a slightest sign. Ron was no help as he still hated their potions professor, but Hermione knew that Harry would not ever give up. With Sirius and Lupin dead, Harry often referred to Snape as his last connection to his family.

Hermione was now walking on the lowest level of Azkaban. Here the most dangerous prisoners were contained. This level was below water; all cells here were carcerated and had no windows or any source of light for that matter. Apparently, dementors did not need light, and her _Lumos_ seemed to be too bright for this place. The air was damp, and the wooden cell doors were slowly rotting in it. These conditions were inhumane, but Hermione did not allow herself to elaborate on that thought. She would not feel sorry for the murderers. Not even here.

She heard people scream in pain or madness while passing some cells, and then dead silence at the doors of the others. This place was terrible, and she kept questioning Dumbledore's sanity with every step further. Has he ever been here? How could he ask her of this?

Hermione tried not to breathe too deeply, as she was feeling dizzy from all the smells. She looked at different names on the cell doors: McNair, Karkaroff, Nott, Goyle… she knew those names, hell, she knew these prisoners _personally_. It was strange to be in their presence again, feeling alarmed and scared at the same time. Hermione was waiting for someone's hand with a stain of the Dark Mark stretch out through the rotting doors to grab her… Even after five years of peace the nightmares of war would not let her go.

Finally, the dementor stopped at the door of the last cell. Hermione noted, that there was no name on it, and she couldn't decide whether it was a good sign or not. The dementor touched the door with his long crooked finger, and it simply disappeared in the brown haze. Then the creature gestured her to come in, while it stayed in the darkness of the hallway.

A man was sitting on the cold floor of the cell. As he saw Hermione enter, he huddled in the corner, as if in attempt to hide away from the now dimmed light of her _Lumos_. She saw him clutching his knees to his chest, and looking sullenly as she stepped toward him.

He was wearing old rags that barely hid the numerous scars on his pale grey skin. His long, hopelessly tangled hair securely hid his face. But the neck ... his neck was all a horrible dirty scar, as if from a laceration. His fingers were thin and bony, covered in dust, and nails unevenly bitten. For a moment there she caught his eye and a devastating scream caught her breathless.

A crust of moldy, stale bread was lying in the opposite corner of the dirty cell. Stains of dried blood were all over the walls. The floor was covered in wet rotting rags, and the stink from them was eye-watering. But this dark, deep gaze was the one thing she would have recognized even in a hundred years.

"Professor…" she spoke quietly as her voice was shaking. "Professor Snape…"

The man silently glared at her. His eyes were empty, soulless, yet still impenetrable, like many years ago. Suddenly Snape howled like a wounded animal, pressed his head and palms on the scabrous stone of the prison walls, moving against it slowly, painfully, and leaving a trail of blood behind…

"It is impossible!" Hermione whispered to herself. "How can he be alive? What will Harry say? Oh Merlin, Dumbledore knew…"

"Professor," she kneeled beside him, "please talk to me."

"Get out of here," he roared. "Out!"

"Mister Snape," she pled as felt the tears running down her cheeks.

"Stop torturing me," the man hissed struggling out of her hands, pressing himself harder against the wall. The stones were sharp, and his palms and forehead were now cut bleeding. "Stop, oh stop. I asked, I begged him to stop…"

Hermione caught herself thinking, she did not want to know what was happening to this man. Was he reacting to human presence? Dumbledore was right; this man was weak and obviously tortured. Too bad she stopped carrying her stock of potions years ago…

Suddenly Severus Snape rolled his eyes and his body shook in a soundless pain attack.

"Professor, do you recognize me? Oh, Merlin!"

Hermione squeezed his shoulder, feeling the blood dripping from the wound on his neck. The man was murmuring something, hissing and gasping for air. His body was shaking, remains of clothing wet from blood and sweat. Hermione was almost panicking, as she was trying to catch his gaze, praying for him to return to consciousness.

"Leave me, leave me," he whispered, breathing heavily. "I am not Snape, I am not Snape!"

His eyes were defocused, and his body felt feverishly hot. Hermione's wand was lying on the floor two feet away, and she tried to reach it to conjure some cold water. Suddenly Snape's shoulders twitched, his breath became irregular. In less than a minute the man fell quiet and limp.

Hermione felt his pulse, making sure he's alive. She thought he might have lost his consciousness from all the pain, but then reality struck her - Snape has lost his brilliant mind.

She put some sleeping and calming spells on him, which were of course not as good as one of his potions, but they should have relieved his pain a bit by next day.

Shaken from what and who she saw, Hermione abandoned the dark prison cell. Still covered in his blood and her own tears, she immediately apparated to Hogwarts. She was furious and fierce, longing for one oil painting to do some serious explanation on the matter.

**XXX**

McGonagall frowned at Dumbledore's all-knowing smile, as they both listened to Hermione's story. Hermione stormed into Headmistress' office ten minutes ago, all covered in blood and weeping miserably. As she finished speaking, she rubbed her eyes with her hands as they were reddened from tears.

"You knew," she whispered looking directly at Dumbledore's portrait. "You knew he was there all this time! You knew that Harry was literary turning the whole island upside down looking for him!.."

"Miss Granger…" began the portrait, but she heatedly interrupted the old man.

"Don't _miss Granger_me. There really is no explanation for keeping that poor man's life a secret, professor."

"We did not know of his whereabouts until recently. He is presumed dead, you know."

"Albus heard from a portrait in the Ministry that there is an incomer in Azkaban, whose identity is unknown." Minerva spoke quietly as sadness took over her heart at mere thought about Severus. "He sent me to Azkaban, and of course I recognized him instantly. Poor boy was tortured to near death, and there was no way I could help… I never saw him conscious… And that trial that awaits ahead, all the publicity – it will simply destroy him, Hermione."

"Harry cleared his name…"

"That was when Severus was presumed dead," Dumbledore said in a low voice. "They will not let go of him shall the Wizengamot only see him alive. We need a strong defense, yet a quiet trial, Miss Granger. I have warned you, he isn't innocent."

"He doesn't seem to be," Hermione said harshly. "Snape is in terrible condition."

"Hermione, you can refuse…" Minerva McGonagall was crumpling the edges of the wide sleeves of her emerald robes.

"I can refuse." Hermione stated absentmindedly. "After I saw the man I hold in deep respect at near death today, after everything I've heard now. I know what waits on him if he shall not be defended properly – a kiss awaits every Death Eater…"

Professor McGonagall's eyes were full of tears. She knew Albus had coerced this young woman into taking this case. Of course Hermione was best choice possible for Severus. But the price the poor girl has to pay, and just weeks away from her wedding…

"…Finally," Hermione continued, her voice being cold and stiff, " I am sitting here covered in Severus Snape's blood. And I am now told I can refuse?"

"Miss Granger," calmly spoke Professor Dumbledore. "I am sorry for putting you in this position. But now do you understand why I was counting on you. He needs _your_ help."

For a moment there all three were silent. It seemed as if the silence in the room was so stiff, it could be cut with a knife, thoughts racing through the minds…

"The portrait is a fake." Hermione suddenly stood up walking to the dark frame on the wall. "His portrait is an illusion, isn't it?"

"Well, yes." Dumbledore agreed with a sigh. "My boy, he must have created it. I don't think he hoped to be ever found. It took me very long to realize he's fake – he's never been of talkative kind, you know. Or sociable in any way, for that matter."

"But it moves," noted Hermione still staring at the empty frame.

"It is a picture without a soul, as the man is still alive. Maybe half-conscious in his sleep, but that is all." Dumbledore sighted.

Hermione shivered remembering Snape portrait's piercing gaze from yesterday's meeting with Dumbledore. And he nodded to her, she was sure. Was that his way of approving of her? Was he aware of Dumbledore's plans?

The silence in the Office was heavy, making it hard to breathe. It seemed as if a viscous web of fear and suspicions, taste of tears on Hermione's lips, the smell of blood – the room seemed enmeshed in it.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," said Professor Dumbledore after clearing his throat, and then whispered "I knew I could count on you."

Hermione sighed heavily.

The conversation was over; and yet again Dumbledore had played everyone just perfectly.

XXX

Ron was snoring peacefully by her side, but Hermione could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she would see Professor Snape in the dirty prison cell with blood on the walls. Her fear was strangling her, growing somewhere in her chest, entangling her body with its sticky fingers. Hermione felt as if she was suffocating, and tears ran down her cheeks again.

She had no regrets for going to Azkaban today, for seeing him there. As she lied in bed, Hermione ran the moments of today through her mind over and over, and every other time it all looked worse. She felt the weight of responsibility spreading through her veins as a slow poison would.

Though Ron saw the condition in which she returned home, she had only shrug his shoulders at her.

"I warned you," he chuckled, not even caring to ask what happened. "It is not smart to play Dumbledore's games."

Hermione's pride did not allow her to speak of whom she saw today. She did not regret this either – Ron has always been tight with emotions and empathy. She would tell him later, maybe even after she talks to Harry…

Yet she was mostly worried about the fact that she simply panicked today in that prison cell. She reproached herself for running away without giving Snape as much as an explanation, a slightest hope.

... The clock struck five. She could see the dusk lightning up the skies. It was a beautiful spring morning. Hermione stood up and opened the window. While breathing in the cool air she thought of the stale stink in Azkaban cells and frowned upon her own memories of the wizard prison.

"I will get you your freedom, Mr. Snape," Hermione whispered as she watched the first rays of sun color the night sky. "Whatever it takes".


	3. Chapter 3 Confessions of Severus Snape

Hermione was walking down the Azkaban stairs again. They were covered in slime, and with every step down it became harder to hold her balance. But touching the walls was not an option.

If there wasn't for the layer of mucus on the stairs, the clicks of her heels would be echoing all around the corridor. Hermione always stepped hard on her heels when furious. She was pissed at the check that dementors made her go through at the doors of the wizard prison. Hermione was scared that if Dumbledore knew, and then she knew, who else could be aware of the identity of the man in the unnamed cell? What if this information gets into wrong hands, then Severus Snape might very well mysteriously disappear one night. No one will search the ocean, even if Harry steps in…

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Once again Hermione pulled her magic bag out of her closet. She stuffed it with potions and ointments, books and other things now securely hidden in the inside hallow. She was anxious to cure Snape's scars. She did not want him to appear in Grand Court beaten and miserable; for some reason she believed Snape would think so too.

Dementors definitely smelled something. But a lawyer cannot be searched without a special warrant – attorney - client privilege in magical law calls for much harsher then in muggle world. The creatures had to step down, but they were nevertheless alerted.

Hermione pressed the edge of her sleeve to her nose, trying to breathe through the mouth. The cadaverous smell was making her sick, and the closeness of a dementor was only making it worse. Finally they've reached the unnamed cell, and the creature left her alone at the open door. Hermione made sure to see him leave the corridor, as she did not want anyone to witness her actions inside the unnamed cell.

Severus Snape was lying on his side on the stone floors, and even in the darkness of the room Hermione could clearly see the terrible scar on his neck. He was slowly clenching his fists, and his nails were making the nasty sound from scratching the flagstones. Hermione stood in the doorway, not daring to enter. She was afraid he will have another seizure, but the man on the floor seemed as if he couldn't care less for someone else's presence.

"Mr. Snape," Hermione finally spoke in a quiet voice.

The man did not react; he continued scratching the floor at the same pace, and not a sole a muscle quivered in his body.

"Mr. Snape, do you recognize me?"

Silence again. Hermione stepped carefully, still afraid of any possible reaction he might have. Yet there was none. She approached him silently, kneeling beside him.

"Mr. Snape…" she spoke, but a muffled murmur of his voice interrupted her.

"Go away."

"Do you recognize me?" persistently repeated Hermione, surprised at the difference between the man she saw here two days ago and the man she was sitting by now. This Snape was different. He was calm and relaxed.

_He could be sedated! _She thought to herself, and the idea of this terrified her. _Someone may be drugging him. What if he is being drugged into oblivion...?_

"You are unforgettable, Ms. Granger." Snape's voice was quiet and husky, but full of venom. He immediately reminded Hermione of their time Potions classes…

"Good morning, Mr. Snape," said Hermione, not sure where to begin. "I am your defense counsel."

He rolled his eyes and roared.

"Get out of here!"

He shouldn't have raised his voice. The wound on his neck was clear open again, blood pulsating all over him. Hermione's hands worked faster than her thought – as if the war was never over. She acted on reflexes: hemostatic and clotting spell non-verbally, and an enchantment for local anesthesia on the wound.

Snape's body temperature was high - she could feel it through his wet clothes. Fever could be a sign of septicemia, but she had a potion for that too. Hermione pushed him to lie on his back, and a quiet but painful groan left his dry lips. She put his head on her knees, and summoned healing and pain relieving potions from her purse. One by one she made him drink those. Hermione was careful not to give him anything sleepy – they still needed to talk.

While Snape was still calming down from this pain attack, Hermione summoned a strong healing ointment and carefully started applying it to his neck. She moved her hand slowly, barely touching him with the tips of her fingers. A few minutes later his breathing became steadier, and she could see his eyelashes tingle every time she touched the wound.

Hermione suddenly realized that if she did these simple manipulations five years ago, when he was lying in the Shrieking Shack with this same wound, he wouldn't have been here. He might have had a life, not a dwelling in Azkaban… She shivered from the uncomfortable thoughts.

Instinctively she continued to rub his neck, though the ointment has almost absorbed by now. Hermione was now sure he was back to consciousness – his temperature seemed to drop, and the breathing was deep and relaxed.

"Mr. Snape," she spoke softly, "we need to talk."

He scowled for a moment and a deep wrinkle immediately lay between his eyebrows. Then unexpectedly he opened his eyes and tried to scream: "Who are you? Go away! Go away!"

Hermione's confusion lasted less than a second. He started crawling away from her to the corner of the cell, clenching his fists and biting his lips. But she saw his eyes; she could not be mistaken…

"Snape, stop this show," she spoke calmly but rigidly, leaning against the wall. "I won't buy mad behavior the second time."

He turned to her, looking directly in her eyes. Hermione sustained his gaze without blinking. She thought of hippogriffs for a moment, and it made her feel calm. Hippogriff was definitely a much more terrifying creature then a wounded Potions Master. Snape crossed the cell in less than a second, leaning close to her, so close that the tip of his nose was nearly touching hers. Hermione did not blink; she wasn't a student anymore, and she was not scared.

"Good for you, Ms. Granger," he finally spoke is eyes fixed on hers. "What do I need to do for you to leave me alone?"

"I am your defense attorney, Mr. Snape," Hermione replied calmly. Now when his mask was off she felt much more comfortable. She knew that there may be more seizures and pain attacks, but his brilliant mind was where it belongs – with its master. Hermione felt relieved from this thought. She has always admired Snape for his genius: first in potions, and after they learned his story – in everything else.

"I don't need an attorney," he sounded irritated.

"You are scheduled for trial in several weeks, Mr. Snape. I will be defending your case before Wizengamot."

For a second there he was clearly stunned, but his venomous gaze was still piercing her eyes.

"Get out of here, Miss Granger. I don't need your defense."

Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes.

"Don't hiss at me. You'll be dead in weeks matter if you keep _this_ show rolling…"

"I said get out of here!" Snape was angry. "I am not a house elf; I don't need to be defended from the big evil! What is it Ms. Granger? Are you lacking attention? Or are you just in a mood for another act of bravery?"

"Mr. Snape, listen to me…"

"No, you listen, girl, and listen carefully. What do you need? You want to know the names of the Death Eaters? Read the plaques in the hallway! Or maybe you want to know something about me? How many did I kill? Torture? Rape? Let me just think…"

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed, as Snape was clearly getting carried away. "Stop this mockery! I promised I'll save you…"

Severus Snape looked at her in disbelief. She felt very uncomfortable from this piercing sight. Suddenly his eyes rolled again, and he slowly fell on the floor next to her. Hermione helped him to sit up against the wall.

She was covered in blood just like in their first encounter, anxious and exhausted from this emotional rollercoaster. If not for the eternal gratitude that Harry has taught her towards this dark man, if not for her own deep respect for the former Potions Professor – she was ready to hate him again.

She slowly turned her head to him and screamed. Snape's body was shaking from another seizure. His lips turned blue, and blood was dripping down his chin. Hermione helped him lay down so he wouldn't choke. The man squeezed her hand, and she was unsure whether it was seizure or it was his way of asking for help. Hermione pulled her wand out again, chanting incantations to calm down him down and relax his muscles. She knew where all this was coming from, she actually remembered it from _Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts_ – the book that Harry made her read in their years at the Academy:

"_Some torturing curses are worth then death itself. It is exceptionally hard to trace them and relieve the victim from the dark influence; but otherwise the man is to suffer forever… until natural death."_

The seizure stopped in forty seven seconds, but Hermione felt like it took eternity. She knew the exact number because she was measuring his pulse. Snape's body stopped shaking in her hands, and he immediately released her palm from his grasp. He groaned, trying to lie on his back, and she helped him, placing his head on her knees again. Hermione spoke the cleaning spell non-verbally; she hated to see this man in such a state.

"You need help as soon as possible. These are curses, that can't be cured or relieved. They need to be traced…"

"Ms. Granger, I know damn well what's happening to me," Snape spoke, but his voice was not hateful anymore. He was exhausted and weak. "It's been almost five years…"

"I will get you out of here, I promise. You'll have all the care you need."

"Ms. Granger," he croaked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do _you_ even believe in my innocence?"

She did not answer that, neither did she look at him.

"I promised…"

"Oh, come on!" Snape looked up at Hermione, but she averted her eyes. "Leave me alone. Let me die in peace, as far as possible from Albus' crazy ideas. You don't need this mess in your pretty head, girl. Get out while you can. I promise not to judge."

Hermione was close to shock – was he actually joking about this? Snape's speech was quiet and almost placid, or was it just his exhaustion…

"I want to help you," she finally said in a very quiet voice.

"But you don't believe in what you are saying. Are you afraid someone will judge you for backing out of it? I won't, Ms. Granger, quite frankly I don't even care. But I don't need your pity, and I don't need your remorse.

She gave him a fierce look. "That is not it!"

"Then what is it?" his voice was almost playful.

"I will defend you at your trial whether you want it or not. I may not like it, but I will not back out."

"I am glad to see years of peace did not make you less stubborn, Ms. Granger. But I don't want to be your lab rat. You shouldn't do this, and I am asking you to leave while you can."

"You will die."

"Well, sometimes death is a better choice."

"You won't have a choice," Hermione finally realized this talk was going nowhere. He still did not believe her; he still did not want her here. But legal ethics require trust between the client and the attorney, and she wondered how long it will take Snape to ever trust anyone.

"Why are doing this? What is in it for you? Do you want to kill me yourself? Or better yet – give in to Potter?"

Hermione sighted. They were finally having a somewhat decent conversation, though she was sure it was because he was either exhausted or sedated from the combination of her spells and potions.

She transfigurated some rags into a matrass and almost levitated Snape to it. She was right: he was too weak to move himself. Hermione also transfigurated some rags into a pillow, and helped him lie down.

"Just hold on, Mr. Snape," she spoke more to herself then to him, "I'll get you out of here soon."

The man rolled his eyes again, and she immediately drew her wand out, afraid of yet another seizure. But this time he was just being Snape.

"What if they make you testify? You will have to take Veritaserum. And then you will be the first to tell how much you hate the old Slytherin bat."

Hermione smiled. "You are not old, and I don't hate you. Harry would be glad to know you're alive. I haven't told him yet. He has been looking for you ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. He cleared your name too."

He raised his eyebrow in disbelief, and Hermione was relieved to see him do something so _Snapish_ again.

"Harry Potter cleared my name? Well that is one thing I couldn't care less for. Too bad I am presumed dead, because they now have to have a trial and the noble doings of Potter on my behalf do no matter, do they? I am still a Death Eater. I killed and tortured. I deserve my sentence."

Hermione knew he would react this way, but she nevertheless couldn't hold it in. She wanted Snape to know, the world has changed.

"Well, not in the last five years you haven't," she tried to speak casually as they came to the trickiest of questions. "Where were you all this time?"

Snape sighted heavily before speaking. "I was captured by some Death Eaters from the Outer Circle. They dragged my body out of the Shrieking Shack. Malfoy and I were the last of those closest to Voldemort, who survived, we were both captured. Arrogant and violent fools, they _blamed_ us for his death! They were venting their anger on us, with spells and potions, and poisons... They would not let us die, they quite enjoyed all that. Then Lucius managed to escape. I thought old dog would return for me, but he never did…"

Hermione was horrified, not so much from the fact that the man next to her was cruelly tortured every day in the last couple of years, but how calmly he spoke about it. As if it did not happen to him.

"One day the Auroras busted into their lair, and everyone was captured. They did not recognize me, but they recognized the Dark Mark. I have been here ever since."

"I am sorry." Hermione felt tears running down her face. "I am so sorry."

"I you are going to cry in court, that is not the best defense, I tell you," Snape said with a shade of a smile.

"How can you joke about this?" Hermione looked at him with disbelief. "How can you be so serene when your life is on the line?"

"I have nothing to lose. There is a tiny chance I will ever be let go of, and then the curses that those idiots used are very unlikely to ever be relieved." Snape was silent for a moment, and then continued, "Lastly, your healing ointment contains motherwort and vervaine. A combination of those two has always had a strange effect on me… My personal _Veritaserum_, which if odd since I grew resistant to the real Truth Potion…"

Hermione smiled, now she knew why he suddenly became so easygoing – her ointment kicked in. She might have not practiced potions for a while, but she definitely wasn't losing her touch. Nevertheless, she liked this new, more relaxed Snape. He was easy to work with, and this case was complicated enough.

"You need to sleep," she said, brushing hair off his face. "I have Sleeping Draught, yet I think you'll sleep well without it. Those seizures were," she swallowed nervously from the memory of his earlier state, "awful. But I don't want to overdrug you."

She got up from the bed and was ready to walk out of the cell when Snape suddenly touched her hand. She looked at the pale face of the cachectic man, seeing him fighting his fatigue for all it's worth.

"I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Snape," she said reassuringly. "I promise I'll get you out of here."

"I know," he said blinking slowly. Finally his eyes closed, and he fell into oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4 Pretrial Motions

In a corner office on the 27th floor of a glass skyscraper Hermione sat back in her chair, turning away from the papers and parchments on her desk. She looked outside the window, where the peaks of London skyline pierced white summer clouds. It was late June, and she hasn't even noticed it until now. The clock in the hallway stroked five.

She has spent the most of her day writing pretrial motions for Snape, struggling to find words to request for a closed hearing. Hermione couldn't allow the press in to the courtroom for several reasons, most important of them being that Snape was too weak to become a newspaper sensation. Their talk from yesterday, the first time they actually had a decent conversation, made her very protective of him. Unfortunately, Hermione's feelings for her client were no argument for the Court.

A dark haired man in his late fifties knocked on the door. The sound immediately disrupted Hermione's thoughts, as she turned her head to the source of it. The man at the door was Mr. Browhurst, the managing partner of her law firm.

"Do you mind?" the man asked, stepping into the room.

"Not at all," she nodded absentmindedly. "Come in, Mr. Browhurst."

"Dear, call me Patrick," He closed the door behind him, and sat on a chair in front of her desk. His eyes were full of concern, but Hermione did not notice it.

Though his appearance was unexpected, Hermione was not surprised. Her boss had a habit of staying on top of things by walking around conversing with associates at the office. But Hermione's record was flawless, she was on top of her mediation with Czechs, her latest corporate clients, and had just won a medical malpractice suit last week…

"What are you working on?"

"I took a case _pro bono_," she replied automatically, as if she had the answer rehearsed.

"I did not know that. Anything I can do for you?"

"No, though I appreciate your effort," Hermione said. "It's a case from my past. Something I need to deal with it on my own."

It seemed the man was very disappointed by her answer. His eyebrows frowned for a second but relaxed promptly.

"Which court?"

She sighted heavily. "The Grand Wizengamot."

"Ms. Granger! Is that what I think it is? Did you take on a DED case?"

"I did. But it's not that simple, Patrick…" she spoke quietly as she did not know how to end this sentence. But when she looked up at her boss, his eyes were sparkling. "Why are you smiling?"

"You are unbelievable. I still remember your first day here. You came in and first thing you said was "I shall never step in a same room with a Death Eater!" Something changed that I should be aware of?"

Hermione smiled back at him. "No."

"Well, in any case, I can't have you on a DED. It's simply not your specialty. Let's transfer it to someone from the Criminal Defense department…"

"No, Mr. Browhurst..."

"Patrick."

Hermione swallowed. "…Patrick. I need to do this case on my own."

The man could see it in her eyes – she was now dead serious. The ethics did not allow him to ask the details, nor could he even ask for the name of the defendant. But there definitely was something special about this case. Something from her past, something from Hermione Granger's past – now that could give the firm some extra publicity.

"I am filing for a closed hearing, Patrick," she said as if his thought were written all over his face. "There will be no publicity."

"But publicity is best strategy on DED! Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"Not for this man, no." she looked down on her papers. "I cannot have him talk to the press. Too much controversy… it will only harm him." _Literally_, she added in her head.

"Ms. Granger, are you sure? Because if you aren't you may as well be putting the whole firm on the line. We've never lost a case you know."

"I know what I'm doing, Patrick," Hermione spoke very seriously. "But this will be something I do on my own."

"All right. I can only wish you luck then."

"Thanks."

The man stood up and walked to the door. As his hand touched the knob, he suddenly turned around and said, "Fancy grabbing a bite?"

"I can't, sorry. I'm filing these," Hermione pointed at the papers on her desk, "and then I'm meeting my wedding planner."

"Oh, alright. Another time then."

"I promise," Hermione smiled at him.

The man nodded and stepped into the hallway.

XXX

Hermione walked out of the Wizengamot Courthouse and stopped at top of the marble stairs. She could hear her own pulse pumping in her temples. She looked at people hurrying down the Diagon alley away from their offices. Oh, how much she wanted to join them in their rush! Hermione had just won her first argument in criminal court, and though it was just over a motion and held in judge's chambers, she was very proud of herself. And yet, this little triumph was no one to be shared with.

As she walked down the alley in a slow pace, Hermione tried to calm down. Her little victory made her a much more confident in what she was doing. She was happy to do something good for Snape - he deserved it. Of course the judge granted the motion for a closed hearing – the Court is not interested in yet another newspaper fuss; but they don't yet know who the defendant is. Right now Snape was simply "prisoner # 55476". Hermione was sure Wizengamot wants to get done with him in a matter of a day, but that would be impossible.

She read the procedure over and over again last night, and she knew what will happen on the day of the trial. First, she will be in the Attorney's chamber with Snape. Then she will be summoned to the Grand Hall of Justice – the hall where the trials over Death Eaters are conducted. Though Wizengamot now had a separate court building, special hearings like this one were still held in the old halls in the Ministry.

After she enters the Chief Justice will swear everyone into secrecy. Only the judges, prosecution, defense, and witnesses will be present; and no one will be able to discuss the matters of this case outside the courtroom. After that Snape will be brought in… and they will certainly all recognize him – but it would be too late to speak. The hearing will be held closed and no press will be involved. Exactly as he needs it.

Hermione was walking past _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour _on the North Side of the alley, looking at the windows. Though Fortescue himself was abducted and murdered by Death Eaters during the war, the _Parlour_ was up and running again, presumably by the poor man's distant relatives. The place was full of kids, all licking their ice cream cones or biting chocolate bars, faces covered in fudge and raspberry filling.

She suddenly remembered how Harry told her about his first ice cream on Diagon alley. It was his first trip with Hagrid, right after he met Malfoy for the first time. He didn't even know then who he was. Every time Harry was telling this story, his eyes were sparkling. Hagrid bought him his first ice cream – chocolate raspberry with nuts. Harry always said with a smile that's when he started believing in magic.

Hermione looked at the _Parlour's_ windows for a moment, as a strange thought pierced her mind – she was feeling nothing. She didn't want kids, she simply didn't. Hermione knew she was not ready for having children; and at the same time she was scared that something may go wrong. She thought that she would never be ready to go through the cold and cynical cabinets of reproduction clinics again, after what happened to her closest friends. But Ron had never raised this question, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder whether he would still be ready to commit to her if she spoke these thought out loud.

Hermione was on her way to the _Café La Fleur _– the most chic place on the alley according to Ginny. Hermione herself found it quite cheesy – to call a French bakery in such a way. As she entered the glass door she immediately saw her red haired friend sitting by the window. She sat in a puffy purple chair, which Hermione found very _cliché _at the interior designed in purple, pink and white.

"Mrs. Potter is waiting for you."

"Thank you," she smiled at the waiter, noting the name on his badge, "Francois."

"You're fifteen minutes late," Ginny spoke mockingly as Hermione sat in front of her.

"I'm sorry, officer," Hermione replied in a same joking manner.

A waiter appeared at the side of their table. He was wearing white pants, a purple shirt, and a fake smile. He handed them the menus.

"Ready to order?"

"I'll have a large caramel latte, thank you." Ginny said without even looking at the menu. She obviously frequented the place.

The waiter nodded. "And you miss?" he turned to Hermione and stared at her without blinking.

"Umm, coffee and a fruit plate with whipped cream…"

"You don't want that," Ginny said quiet enough for only Hermione to hear. "You don't want whipped cream today, dear."

"What? Oh, alright. Yoghurt parfait then. Thanks," and as the waiter stepped away she continued, "Why exactly can't I have my favorite dessert?"

"Don't turn your head, but there are two reporters outside. What if they get a shoot with whipped cream on your nose? I am a maid of _your _honor,aren't I?"

"Reporters, Ginny! Seriously?" Hermione hissed. "I don't need the publicity." Surprisingly, her mind was rushing in a very different direction: what if the paparazzi catch her while on a case? It may seriously hurt Snape…

"Hermione, sweetie, your wedding is the wedding of the century! What do you expect?" Ginny acted surprised.

"No, it's yours and Harry's wedding that was the wedding of the century. You know, Ron and I are much more humble..."

"Shush up, and stop making fun of a serious matter!" Ginny laughed. "Actually, we have something very important to cover today."

Ginny stopped talking as the waiter approached the table with their orders.

"So what kind of torture is awaiting on me today?" Hermione said with a smile. "We've already picked the theme, all decorations, plate patterns, glasses… The napkins with our initials are ordered, and the arch with pink peonies is to be delivered to the Burrow on Friday, day before the ceremony. Did I miss anything?"

Hermione was smiling. It was nice to chatter absentmindedly with a friend after a long day. She was happy that Ginny took all of wedding planning in her own hands, because she had no time to deal with it herself. And though Hermione clearly understood that this wedding is very much orchestrated by Molly Weasley's desires for her youngest son, she was ready to put up with it. For Ron, for all of them, for that sacred feeling of being part of a big family… For the warmth of being loved she was ready to go long way.

"Well, it's the most important part today," Ginny smiled sweetly. "We are going to buy the dress!"

Hermione almost chocked on her coffee. Now she did not forget, how could she? But she would be glad to postpone the fitting of a number of cupcake-like dresses.

"You promise my voice will count, right?" Hermione finally said with a smile.

"When was the time I didn't listen to you?" Ginny winked at her.

"Never mind," Hermione sighted. "I love you anyway. And I really appreciate what you're doing for me, I do."

"It's nothing dear. I enjoy it. Takes my mind of…you know, things."

Ginny face changed for a second. Hermione saw deep sadness, almost grief in her eyes. She felt bad for not saying anything, but she promised Ginny they would never speak of that again. Yet, Hermione still remembered that terrible Monday several months ago, when always shining Ginny walked into her office for the first time. She did not like Hermione's choice of career, thinking of law as something very unfeminine. Thus when she appeared at her doors Hermione knew something went terribly wrong.

That day Ginny suffered a miscarriage. She cried in Hermione's office for several hours, not willing to go anywhere. When she finally managed to get her home, she only kept crying, refusing to talk to either her or Harry. For the next two days Ginny sat on the couch for simply staring in one spot without eating as much as a bite, tears running down her cheeks silently. Hermione remembered Harry being ruined, but Ginny wouldn't talk even to him. But when Harry left Hermione with her to go and bring in a psychologist, she suddenly stood up and snapped out of her misery. Harry was happy beyond words, and Hermione was made to swear that no one would ever hear about it, and that the word that starts with "m" will never be spoken again.

Hermione saw how Harry cared for his wife, how he held her hand every second of that horrible time of their life, how much support he provided her with. He had never spoken a word about it, and they've kept trying to have a baby ever since. Life has never put Hermione and Ron through anything, there was never a challenge they would have to overcome as a couple. Since then Hermione was scared whether Ron would be there for her if the times ever get dark…

"I can see you thinking about it." Ginny said sharply. "Don't."

"I'm sorry." Hermione looked down at her parfait.

"Hermione," Ginny touched her friend's hand. "It's alright. It's over. I let it go, and you should too."

Hermione smiled at her. "I know. Everything will be alright, sweetie."

"I know. Thank you. We should really get going," Ginny changed the topic of conversation, waiving at the waiter.

"I'll get it," Hermione smiled, taking out her wallet. "You're the best maid of honor I could possibly wish for, Gin."

"There is no way you are flattering your way out of wedding dress fitting, _sweetie_," Ginny said with a mocking smile.

"Damn! Well, Merlin knows I tried."

The girls laughed sincerely as they left the coffee shop, chattering loudly about champagne and wedding cakes as they walked towards the dress atelier.

XXX

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed with tears in her eyes. "You look beautiful!"

The bride turned around looking at her back in the mirror – the skirts of a puffy ivory dress was swirling around her.

"Gin, I look like that parfait we had before today."

"So not true! You look beautiful, dear."

Hermione looked at her best friend, who obviously enjoyed the show much more than the she did. Hermione wanted a simple dress, but Ginny was adamant about it. After two and a half hours of trying on different styles, they finally agreed to a strapless silk gown, the only embroidery on it being forty-three pearl buttons that ran down its back.

They picked a long veil, and with a flick of a wrist the atelier owner conjured pearl embroidery on the hem to match the dress.

"We will put your hair up like this, and then this curl here…" Ginny was on the roll, tucking Hermione's hair up under the veil. "…and here. You should wear pearl earrings... The ones Harry and I gave you for your birthday, those. Gloves! We need gloves!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked at the mirror, and though of how excited Ginny looked, and how bored was her own expression. But the truth was she did look stunning in this dress, and this dress itself looked a lot like her. It was simple and elegant, and without Ginny it would take her forever to find anything as beautiful as this… Silk elbow-length gloves that made her hands look very thin appeared out of nowhere.

…The girls walked out of the atelier with several white bags with pink and blue ribbons, and turned their steps to the shoe shop at the intersection of Diagon and Knockturn alleys. As they were walking, an idea suddenly struck Hermione.

"Gin, you want to have dinner together tonight at our place? With the boys that is."

"Well, that's quite spontaneous. But we sure would love to! But I'll have to apparate home first to get the rosemary pork I was cooking for Harry tonight."

"Great," Hermione smiled. "Ginny, do you ever not have some exquisite dish in store? Harry is so lucky."

Ginny smiled. "You need to talk to Harry, don't you? You know, you can just tell me."

Hermione sighted. "I know, Gin. It's work stuff, nothing much." She tried to smile, but sudden memory of a man in a dirty Azkaban cell made her frown.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah… Well, actually, I took on a very hard case, and I need Harry's help."

Ginny pushed the glass doors of the shoe store and smiled at Hermione. "Whatever you care about we care about. You know that, don't you? I'm sure Harry would be glad to help."

"Thanks dear. Now let's go find the most perfect white shoes in this shop. And I promise to consider high heels before sating no."

"Finally," Ginny laughed, "finally you're in the right mood for a wedding!"

_**Authors note: **__Please review! Your comments really motivate me better than anything :)_

_The next chapter is well underway though; you expect it no later than in a week!_

_**Next Chapter Preview: **__the next chapter is called "The First Hearing", where Severus Snape will make his first appearance before the Great Wizengamot. As Hermione predicted, the judges will recognize him and immediately become very prejudicial of his persona. Let's hope Hermione has some tricks up her sleeve, and that that Snape's trust issues with her won't destroy him in her eyes… _


	5. Chapter 5 The First Hearing

_My dearest readers!_

_Thank you so much for all your reviews and comments. They really mean a lot to me!_

_This chapter is a little longer than the previous ones, and I really hope you will like it._

_However I have to warn you: there is a quite a bit of mature content in this one._

_Enjoy the reading!_

The morning of the grand day began with a grand scandal.

A simple muggle alarm clock buzzed its monophonic tune at 7 a.m. exactly. Hermione hit the snooze button and turned on her back, instantly awake. She didn't sleep well for all the nervous thoughts that were running through her mind. She was scared of what was to happen today.

"Get up, hon," she pushed Ron, but the man only growled in response. 'Oh, come on! I need to get to the shower."

"You need to get up, you do so," Ron replied in a grumpy manner - he was not a morning person. "I have an hour more at the least."

Hermione sighted and tried to climb over him. But as she clumsily threw her leg over Ron, he suddenly hugged her by her waist, turning around so she would appear under the weight of his body.

"Ron, dear," Hermione spoke in a sleepy voice, "can we do this some other time? I have a very hard day ahead of me."

"Oh, come on," he replied sulkily. "Like you care for the bloody DED trial. Let's do it."

"I don't have the time," Hermione spoke calmly, feeling her fiancé's member against the inner side of her thigh.

Ron frowned. "It's always like that with you! When was the last time we did it?"

"Yesterday morning," Hermione sighted. She didn't like morning sex - it always set her to the wrong mood. Especially today it would since she needed all her concentration at hand. "I'm not an animal, you know. This is not what I need right now."

"Wow. How selfish can you be sometimes," he hissed only to hurt her. "What about my needs?"

Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes. Usually she would give in to his sexual appetite even earlier, but not today.

"Ron, sweetie. I've been preparing for days for today's trial... Please, be supportive of me. I came back really late from Snape yesterday, I simply can't..."

Ron's face was turning red. "So you can't, and I should just roll with it! Hermione, with you it's always either a trial, or a deposition, or mediation, or whatever! I'm so bloody tired of this shit! Every day I have to talk you into having sex, and you are my fiancée for Merlin's sake!" Ron was screaming, spitting saliva in her face. Anger was flourishing from him as in some strange aura. "And recently it's this pathetic bat! Snape this, Snape that... Maybe you fuck him too?"

That was going too far. Hermione was so pissed at him! This was exactly a kind of talk she had to put up with every morning, but with Snape Ron simply went to far.

"How dare you!" Hermione slapped him in the face so hard, her fingers actually hurt. "Let me go!"

"Oh, so you can run off to your new lover! No, Hermione that shall not work with me!" He held her hands tight, pressing her against the bed. Ron's job as the Deputy Head of Auror Office turned him into a bundle of muscles and power, which he was never really afraid to exercise with her. Especially when he got angry.

Hermione struggled from under her fiancé, as she felt his hands ripping pajama shorts off her. Tears were pouring down her face. The second Ron tried to kiss her angrily, she bit his lower lip instantly feeling the metal taste of blood on her lips. He groaned and his grasp lightened for a second, which was enough for Hermione to grab her wand of nightstand. Again she acted faster than thought, war reflexes pushing her to her limits. The non-verbal spell threw Ron off the bed into the armchair in the corner of the room.

"Don't you dare accuse me of cheating!" Hermione spoke in a high pitched voice, chocking on tears.

"Fucking witch!" Ron groaned getting up and trying to grab her in his arms again. "Shagging that old greasy bastard, ha? I bet dementors are fed up with your screams..."

"_Levicorpus_!" said Hermione jerking her wand. She did not want to hurt Ron, but disorient him. Yet this did not work out the way she expected it to.

"For Merlin's sake! I don't recall you being so darn comfortable using his spells before..."

"Ron! Shut up! What's with all the hate? It's like we are back at Hogwarts all over again!" Hermione's nerves broke. "Why are you doing this to me?"

As her eyes full of tears met his angry gaze, she saw his face relax almost instantly.

"I don't know what got into me," Ron sighted heavily. "Put me down, I won't touch you. I promise."

As Hermione released him from her spell, he sat up on the floor right in front of her, his expression unreadable. Hermione realized how many feelings she felt toward him: while she had remembered herself always caring for him not to get hurt same as she cared for his family. She felt sorry for that she did to him, for not giving him more of her time and attention. But most importantly she felt pity, pity and disappointment for both of them as they sat on the floor of the bedroom unprepared for the conversation that is about to happen.

"I shouldn't have hexed you," she finally said careful to omit the word "sorry".

"Aha," Ron finally said without looking directly at her, but rather at her legs. "Every time I think of you with another man I just can't control myself. It's killing me, Hermione. I want the whole world to know you're mine."

"We are getting married on Saturday," Hermione said with a low sigh. "Who else's would I be?"

Ron shrug his shoulders. "You're always so busy, running around in a company of some other man... and now this Snape trial that I can't even attend because of your request for closed hearing!"

"I'm sorry you're feeling this way, Ron," she replied by letting her guard down. "But I can't marry you unless you learn to trust me. I can't do this just so you will feel better."

The silence was uncomfortable, as Hermione realized she spoke out loud something that Ron was not ready to hear. She saw another spark of anger in his eyes when he looked at her.

"Don't you dare threaten me. It is too late. You can't break up this far, Hermione," Ron's voice was now stiff. "My mom has done so much for this wedding, she would be just devastated... and the press? What would they write about you? Since I doubt a mediocre reporter would dare to through a shadow over an Auror."

Hermione looked down on her hands. She couldn't believe what she just heard. Of course Molly and all the Weasleys would hate her, and she may even lose Ginny and Harry… Ron was not threatening her; he was simply stating the facts. Certainly the press would blame her, since he is in the top ten of _Prophets _Eligible Bachelors list. Rita Skeeter would be sure to write a whole book on them full of dirty lies and accusations. No, Ron is right, - it's too late to call off the wedding. She wouldn't have the courage do it anyway - she had nowhere to go, no one's shoulder to cry on. Not now, not yet.

"I'm scared that I may not be ready for this," Hermione finally spoke. "I'm scared that I won't be able to be the wife you want and deserve. It is something that can't be learned from books, you know. I don't know whether I want to have children. I don't know if I'm..."

"I know," Ron got up and came up to his fiancée, hugging her by the shoulders. "But there is only one choice now, and you should keep that in mind. By Sunday morning you will be my wife, and you will make me very proud..."

Few minutes later Hermione was standing in the shower, rethinking their morning. She turned the water to very hot, but still couldn't make the shivers go away. Thoughts were rushing through her head like one burning stream. As she was thinking about Ron and their relationship she almost forced herself to admit - she outgrew loving the man she was about to marry. They simply became very different, and from that - very distant. She didn't want to make anyone proud, she simply wanted to be happy with the man she would love, and not simply _tolerate_. But on the other hand, who would tolerate her with her passions for work and love for a good read rather than sex on a kitchen floor? And then, isn't marriage all about patience and compromise? She wouldn't know, and no one was there to advise her.

But Ron was right - it was too late to cancel the wedding. There was no way she could find the words to tell the Weasley family that she simply fell out of love with their son, that they've lost the connection... And then another truth struck Hermione - it was her fault. Ron was jealous of her, he loved her, and she was the one uncertain. So was she the one to blame?

"Therefore there is only one thing I can do," Hermione thought to herself, trapped in her feelings of despair and fear of uncertainty. "I have to grow back to love my future husband, because no one would ever love me like he does."

As Hermione finished putting mascara on, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red from tears and the sleepless night, and no makeup could change that. She thought of Ron's accusations and of how hurt she was to hear them. Not only because it meant his lack of trust to her, but because he said something so prejudicial about Severus Snape: a man, who grew into somewhat a hero with every word she read in his case.

Even throughout breakfast Hermione couldn't resist thinking about the dark secretive man she was about to meet in the court chambers. Though they were getting to a somewhat stable and friendly relationship by now, she couldn't help but wonder: could a man like Severus Snape ever be attracted to her in any way?

ХХХ

Hermione walked down Diagon Alley, trying to concentrate on today's trial. She felt very worried for Snape, since he refused to drink her potions yesterday. Certainly he had a good reason – that being he did not want to be sedated and unable to resist the _Veritaserum _potion that the Court was sure to make him take. Still, that meant that he would be in pain and danger of bleeding, and a mere thought of that made Hermione very worried.

As she walked down the Ministry hallway to the Attorney's Chambers, she saw Potters waiting for her by the doors.

"Hermione!" Ginny spoke in a loud whisper. "I just came by to wish you luck. Harry told me how important this trial is for you."

"I'm sorry, I can't keep anything from my lovely wife," Harry said with a smile.

"It's all right," Hermione smiled back at him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Gin."

"I won't run to the _Daily Prophet_, I promise," Ginny looked Hermione in the eyes, and suddenly her voice became very concerned. "Are you all right, dear? You look pale."

"I'm very nervous."

"Did you have a fight with Ron?" Harry said, catching Hermione off guard.

"Did he tell you something?!"

"I made a guess. Ginny and I fought all the time the week before the wedding. One time she even threw a vase at me!" Harry was smiling, but Hermione couldn't get rid of the feeling that he was hiding something.

She looked at the couple and suddenly noticed that everything in the posture of one was reflected in the other. They were holding hands, Harry's thumb stroking gently his wife's palm. Hermione realized that it has been forever since she and Ron held hands, or since he even looked at her with same love and caress as Harry felt for Ginny. But then, Ron was never much of an emotional person.

"Do you think we maybe are rushing this thing?" Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat before continuing to whisper. "All the wedding, the holy matrimony…"

"Ah, Hermione!" Ginny hugged her friend tightly. "It's just cold feet. Ron loves you very much. He just has strange ways of showing it."

_Very strange_, Hermione thought to herself.

"Harry, dear, do you disagree?"

"No, love," Harry smiled, but his eyes were concerned. "I just think that one shouldn't be doing something he isn't ready to put his life on. But in any way, I'm sure it's just cold feet," he kissed Hermione on the forehead. "It will get better by Sunday, I promise."

"Thank you, guys," Hermione sighted. "I don't know what I would do without you."

A strange man approached them from the darkness of the corridor. He was thin, his beard was dark brown, tucked behind the silver belt around light blue cloak.

"Ms. Granger, the Grand Court is ready," the man said in a loud voice. "I have been instructed to escort you and Mr. Potter to the Grand Hall."

Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded.

"You'll do great, honey," Ginny patted her on the shoulder. "You are the best defense one could wish for."

"Thanks, Gin."

"I will see you for lunch, love," whispered Harry after kissing Ginny lightly on the cheek.

"Can't wait," she replied with a smile, and their almost unrealistic idyll made Hermione doubt her Saturday wedding even more.

XXX

The atmosphere behind the courtroom doors was so intense, it seemed as one could easily cut it with a knife. As soon as she took her place behind the Defense stand, the Chief Warlock had everyone sworn into secrecy. After everyone had repeated the oath, Hermione allowed herself a sigh of relief.

Two tall dementors entered the courtroom, dragging Severus Snape behind them. For a moment there Hermione couldn't catch her breath. He looked awful: exhausted, his skin grayish pale, and eyes sunken and half closed. His shirt had blood stains on it; the wound on his neck must have opened again, and Hermione silently blamed herself for not making him take a potion yesterday.

After putting Snape into the chair with the chains the dementors stepped away, and the whole court let out a gasp of surprise. Hermione saw it in their faces: they all recognized him. Anger, pity, disgust, even fear – so many emotions mixed in the faces of the Wizengamot judges. Yet, the chains that had always seemed to enjoy grasping the wrists of anyone who sits in the famous chair didn't even move. Hermione couldn't help but smile at this little fact, but the faces of the judges became even tenser.

Severus Snape was asked hundreds of questions by a young perky prosecutor, and most of them Hermione objected to as irrelevant or simply unethical. It appeared to her, that the prosecutor did not even bother to read the case file, simply deciding to roll with the standard strategy for Death Eaters. But he also saw that the judges couldn't deal with their own emotions, and tried to play that card too.

"Objection, your Honor!" Hermione jumped up again and again. "This whole line of questioning is irrelevant!"

"Sustained," the Chief Warlock sighted irritably. "Prosecution, could you make your case is less offensive terms?"

"Yes, your Honor," the young prosecutor smirked. "Shall I rephrase to satisfy the opposing Counsel?"

"Please do," Hermione replied abruptly. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. They all hated Severus Snape so much, they were ready to destroy him even before he was proved guilty. Hermione felt thankful to him for strictly following the strategy they discussed – he kept himself calm and impartial, answering the questions clearly and very precisely. She was sure Snape was tricking the _Veritaserum_ potion, but the prosecution would be naïve to believe that Voldemort's own Potions Master wouldn't be resistant to such potions. And yet, they had no way to check that.

Hermione was feeling somewhat proud of Severus. She was fascinated by his strength with every word he spoke to the prosecutor's face. She could tell he was tense, but it only made her think about how she saw him relax for a slight moment yesterday evening.

They spent the last evening before the trial rehearsing his answers to the questions she could predict. Severus was lying on his back, a pillow tucked under his head. Hermione was making him repeat some complicated legal definitions, while cleaning the wound on his neck by hand. She wetted the cloth in the conjured bowl of warm water, carefully stroking his neck.

She turned around to wet the cloth, and when she touched his neck again, she saw Snape close his eyes slowly. Hermione noticed that there was no wrinkle between his eyebrows, which meant that he had finally relaxed. But that only lasted a second.

Hermione was certain she would get him acquitted. She was constantly telling Snape that he would soon be released, that he would return home, take his favorite book and enjoy it by the fireplace with a glass of good firewhiskey. For some reason she added, that if he doesn't cut his now quite long hair, but rather tie it with a strip of black silk he would look younger and even more mysterious. Lastly, that he would surely return to Hogwarts, and would walk the corridors at night scaring away the first years with a tense look.

"And there_ will be no foolish wand_-_waving_ or silly incantations in your class!" she added with a smile, but Snape grimaced to that.

"Ms. Granger, you're being delusional," he said coldly.

Her eyes widened.

"Mr. Snape, why would you say such a thing? I believe in what I say."

"Who would ever allow a former Death Eater even a gunshot close to Hogwarts?" he hissed at her, his voice instantly full of both anger and despair. His words made Hermione think that the man is so close to madness, that without his books, without the warmth of the fire under the cauldrons and the coldness of the stones in his lab he is soon to give up or even worse - lose his mind. And that was something she couldn't allow to happen.

"You shouldn't overwork your voice cords," Hermione replied calmly. "So shush up and listen. I believe no one would be able to find you guilty, because you are a very brave man who was acting on someone else's orders. I know you are innocent. I believe in what I say and what I will defend tomorrow before the Wizengamot. And I certainly believe these are your last days in this awful cell."

Snape looked directly in her eyes, but Hermione did not turn away.

"You should go," Snape finally whispered. "You need to rest."

"You're right," she spoke softly, trying to hide the disappointment from his coldness. Hermione felt sorry for him, for what he had to go through, and would rather stay to cheer him up. She would even hold his hand if that would help her maintain his belief in their victory… but he probably would never let not just her - any human being this close. Though with Severus Snape she still never knew what to expect.

Finally Hermione stood up from the side of his bed. She had turned away toward the exit when he suddenly grasped her wrist.

"Ms. Granger," Severus croaked. His hand slid lower, gently holding her palm.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," he almost chocked, and the words came out very quiet.

Hermione smiled. 'You have nothing to yet thank me for."

Snape nodded, but didn't let go of her hand.

"When all this will be over," he chocked again, his voice very quiet as it was probably still painful for him to speak. "Regardless of the outcome of tomorrow's hearing..."

"Mr. Snape, everything will be fine. I'm sure." she immediately interrupted his pessimistic speech.

"Young lady," Severus scowled, "you would have lost half of your house points for interrupting if we were in Hogwarts right now."

"I'm sorry, professor," she smiled at him, and Snape suddenly caught himself enjoying her smile. There were very few that were ever given to him, and never as sincere as Hermione's. "I'd better get going. You need to rest before tomorrow."

But he kept looking at her without letting go of her. Then Snape broke the eye contact and stared at their hands. There still was one thing he couldn't find the words to ask.

"Ms. Granger, when it's all over, will we part ways?" Severus finally said very quietly, and he felt her palm slightly trembling in his hand.

"I wouldn't want that to happen."

"The Court is now ready to deliberate," the Chief Warlock stood up, overlooking the hall. Hermione immediately snapped out of her memory, and rose from her seat.

"But your Honor! Not all witnesses from the defense had testified!"

Chief Warlock dramatically rolled his eyes.

"Counsel, what are you trying to do?"

A flash of fury sparkled in Hermione's gaze. It was time to take the ace from up her sleeve.

"I demand a fair trial your Honor! I demand," Hermione sighted deeply before continuing her phrase. "I demand to call Mr. Harry Potter to testify."

She had heard a murmur roll across the rows of judges. No one had expected such a _resonance _in a usual case even though it was about a very unusual defendant. But Harry Potter had never testified to a Death Eater's defense before… the court was left with no choice.

"Mr. Harry Potter?" Chief Warlock said with a grain of salt in his voice. "You want Head of the Auror Office to testify at this man's trial?"

"I have his signed affidavit, your Honor," Hermione continued her pressure, "and Mr. Potter is present in the Courtroom."

"The Grand Wizengamot shall then take a recess! The hearing will continue on Monday at ten!" Chief Warlock snapped, angrily knocking his silver gavel. He was so pissed; he seemed to be spitting the words out. "Good day to you, Counsel."

But Hermione simply smiled back at him. Now she knew – Severus Snape will definitely be released very soon. Right now she couldn't be happier.

_**Authors note: **__Please review! Your comments are the best critic and the best motivator :) The next chapter is coming up, but it's going to take a little longer since I'm finishing up my thesis in the first week of March. I am sorry for any delays; yet I really hope you will enjoy the story twists ahead :)_

_**Next Chapter Preview: **__the next chapter is called "Attorney-Client Privilege". It will fully be dedicated to the development of friendship (*wink-wink*) between Severus and Hermione. _


End file.
